by Piper Lawson
I swallowed.
If I wasn’t willing to go there, admitted I couldn’t match Dylan’s supreme casualness, would he sense that I was hung up on him somehow?
Was I hung up on him?
I pushed the questions away. Tried to think of something breezy. Came up empty.
“Can’t you just watch porn or something?”
“No. It’s not the same.” His answer was immediate and dismissive.
I glanced down, willing myself to respond. When I looked back up, his eyes were running over my face like he was looking for something.
Just like that, the fight in me started to give. “Dylan, I can’t talk to you about this.” I pushed off the bed to stand.
“Why? Because it’s hard to describe?” His mouth turned up at the corner in something not quite a smile. “You could just show me. I’m more of an experiential learner anyway.”
Then the image of some girl and Dylan was long gone, obliterated by one of me and Dylan. What could have happened on my bed. On his. Against the car. They flashed across my brain with breathtaking intensity.
This was more than I could take. I’d skipped out on my planned study session to respond to a supposed emergency only to find myself in this situation. I was feeling foolish all over again, right after convincing myself I had everything under control.
The color of his eyes deepened. I couldn’t tell if it was self-mocking or something else. “What? Come on, Lex, you said it yourself. We’re friends. Nothing here.” Dylan mimicked my gesture from that first night, motioning to the air between us.
His eyes were inscrutable for the longest moment. Then as if he’d changed his mind about something, he shrugged and collapsed back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head. He took up an inspection of the ceiling, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure out what to do next. For a long moment it was like I wasn’t even there.
I needed that moment.
Enough. This guy was scrambling my brain. There wasn’t anything going on between us and yet this was exactly what I’d set out to avoid this year. It ended now.
“I’m sorry you’re having girl problems. But you’ll work them out. I have somewhere I need to be.”
He opened his mouth to say something, stopped when I held up a hand. As I walked down the stairs and out to my car without a backward glance, I knew that whatever the hell had just happened, I needed less Dylan Cameron in my head.
Chapter 12
Midterms were coming up in a couple of weeks, which meant I was pretty much on lockdown. I also had an excuse not to talk to Dylan for days.
Not that I was avoiding him exactly. I just wasn’t sure what to do with him. We’d just gotten established as friends. But he wouldn’t stay in the damn friend box, which admittedly was more my fault than his. And he couldn’t be anything else, because of Ava’s and my pact—plus he was her brother, and she’d lose it if I even thought about going there.
Still, our bizarre encounter the other night kept replaying in my mind.
I managed to skirt Dylan when he stopped by Thursday morning to give Ava a ride to school. I had no desire to ride with them, so I feigned a need to log extra study hours at the library starting at seven most mornings and caught the first bus instead. He’d texted me a few times though.
We missed you today. I know you’re too lazy to walk all the way to school
It was true, I had to give him that. Then Monday …
Did you fall into Ava’s closet? Is it like that Hoarders show?
Then Thursday …
Something wrong?
No, I’m fine. No, I haven’t had three dreams in the last week about faceless guys who weren’t you but had suspiciously familiar dark hair and cut arms.
I finally responded.
Everything’s good…just been studying
Catch up after midterms
It was at least partly true. Avoiding Dylan had resulted in me getting in some serious time at the library. Jane and I spent half a day just quizzing each other on finance. But Finske aside, I had three other tests worth a good chunk of my collective marks happening in the next week. And I needed to do well, because I was counting on focusing more time on my business plan in November and wouldn’t be able to fix falling grades.
So, most nights I went directly from class to the library to study alone or with classmates. Ava, who claimed to have two papers due though I’d yet to see her crack a book, had started complaining that I never came home anymore. I stood firm despite her insistence that we hadn’t had any girl time in weeks.
Realizing she wouldn’t be able to bust me out, she instead smuggled contraband into my rented library study room one night.
“How can you have no midterms?” I mumbled around my mouthful of pad thai. “Ohmygod. This is so good. You are the best friend ever.”
“I know. And to answer your question, the fashion program doesn’t believe in traditional forms of evaluation,” she said airily. “I’m pretty sure Karl Lagerfeld never wasted his time on multiple choice.” I would normally make a dig at this, but I was so relieved to see her and peanut sauce, not necessarily in that order, that I let it slide.
“I’ll have you know we don’t have multiple choice anymore. Now we have to write actual answers. Show our work and everything. We’re like grown-ups.”
She laughed. I was hugely envious and confounded by the completely different system. I think I would flounder in fashion design; the ambiguity would do me in.
“Don’t you get evaluated on anything?”
“Of course. Not that it really matters what your grades are. It’s all about what people outside of school think of your clothes. Which is why this year, by invitation, ten fashion majors get to put three outfits each into the fall fashion show in November,” she said.
The fall show was co-sponsored by the college but headlined by actual, working designers. It was part of a bigger fundraising initiative. Getting Travesty designs in front of the San Diego crowd could give us great feedback and profile.
Ava looked suspiciously like she was trying to keep something to herself, which she could never do for long.
“… and? You’re killing me here.”
Ava wiggled her perfectly plucked eyebrows, her eyes dancing with excitement.
“Aaaaaaand we’re in! Can you believe it?”
“That’s amazing!” It was. I could feel my heart expand in my chest, both with pride for Ava’s achievement and excitement for what it might mean to us. “And the timing is perfect, because you can tweak them before we pitch to Kirsten’s friends over the break.” While everyone else was at home eating pie and unwrapping gifts, I’d have the best gift of all: the contacts and advice needed to launch our designs by that time next year.
I was getting excited. Thinking about the meetings with Kirsten made me feel closer to our dream. The dream that made all the hours of library-bound solitude worthwhile. “Which reminds me. Kirsten’s assistant is going to send us some times we can meet her in December. We’ll have to book our flights soon!”
“Shit! New Year’s in New York.” Ava squealed. “It’s going to be amazing!”
Since finals ended the middle of December, I was also planning to squeeze in a week of work at the magazine before and after Christmas. In between I’d get a few days off sightseeing with Ava and my family.
Ava and I had to make it work—and the fall fashion show was just one more step toward the ultimate goal. I let my studying slide by another hour so Ava and I could celebrate with Thai and make plans for all the amazing places we’d be jetting off to in a year, and the people who would be wearing our clothes.
Chapter 13
Homecoming weekend was a big deal. At our school, it was less about the alum and more about an excuse for the students to party. And worship football. For me it was mostly about celebrating surviving the first two months of school with my grades and sanity intact.
Homecoming was a special occasion for another reason: it marked my one an
d only appearance at the football stadium for the year. Even when I was dating Jake, I didn’t go to watch the games. Football was my least favorite sport. It never made sense to me why a bunch of guys would run around in tight shiny pants and hit each other. Ironic, I guess, that I ended up dating a first-string player for four years. It was a testament to my stubbornness that Jake had tried and failed for that entire period to get me hooked.
The game was Saturday afternoon and the day was gorgeous and sunny. Ava, Emily, and I went over together and met Jen and her boyfriend there.
I drove and took advantage of the free weekend parking, though we had to park a mile away from the stadium because of the crowds. We settled into our seats about thirty minutes before kickoff. Emily had scored us a great vantage point. Her brother was a linebacker and the team’s family got first dibs. In the past I’d gotten them from Jake. Not this year.
We’d all dressed in school colors, green and white. Emily, Jen, and I were all wearing legit team clothes. My choice had been a girl-sized jersey and denim miniskirt. This was as preppy as it got for me. Ava, always needing to be different, had on her own emerald green tank made out of some lux fabric that you definitely could not get at the campus book store.
Catching a glimpse of the players warming up, Emily leaned over to me. “Have you talked to Jake lately? I heard he sprained something last week in practice.”
“No, I’ve barely talked to him. He texted me a bit when I got back to school, but that’s it.” I gave silent thanks at the guarantee he’d be sitting on the bench, feeling only a little guilty about it.
Emily chewed her lip like she was debating how much to say. She might come off as flaky and boy crazy at first, but she was actually a do-gooder. Which sometimes meant we butted heads when she thought she knew what was better for me than I did. “Well, Chris said Jake’s been in pretty rough shape lately. Even before the injury. I wondered if that had something to do with you guys breaking up.”
“It was his brilliant idea to call it quits in the first place.”
“You don’t think you’d ever get back with him? You guys dated for a long time.” Emily had that righteous look on her face, but I didn’t feel like entertaining her matchmaking efforts today.
“We wanted different things, Em. It wouldn’t have worked.”
The band started playing and I used that as an excuse to look toward the playing area in front of us. For once Emily took the hint.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. Once I could look at Jake and our relationship with some distance and the halo started to fade, he was just another guy looking to keep his parents happy. And that didn’t fit with me. Not anymore.
A few players were doing warmups, and the cheerleaders were stretching on the field. Well, most of them were. I caught a glimpse of green and white skirts in my peripheral vision two rows behind us. They weren’t warming up.
Or if they were, it was for a different game. Both were in conversation with guys who were no doubt ecstatic to receive their attention.
I’d been about to glance away when I saw a familiar face. Kent was one of the guys. When he caught my eye he smiled. The brunette who’d been touching his arm glanced over with a far less pleasant expression on her face. I sent a genuine smile at him and waggled my fingers at her, impervious to the daggers she shot back. Kent waved me over. I shook him off, having no desire to be scorched by his fan club up close, but he insisted.
“I’m going to say hello, come with me? I may need backup.” Emily took one look at Kent and was quick to agree.
Winding our way to the end of the row and up was easier because the seats weren’t full. With the precision of a homing missile I latched onto another face altogether. Dylan was standing two seats past Kent. I hadn’t noticed him before because he’d been partly obscured by a blond ponytailed head. A head that was now inches from his and tilted upward like she was hanging on his every word.
The blond turned to say something to her friend, and Dylan’s eyes locked with mine. His face registered surprise. When the blond turned back to resume talking with him, put her hand possessively on his arm, his gaze dragged back to her.
Emily followed my line of sight. “Oooh, is that Ava’s brother?” Her voice was quiet enough we wouldn’t be overheard. “Who’s he with? He did good.” Emily had no shame checking the girl out. “Score another win for peroxide and silicone.”
“Yeah, the California economy would collapse without them,” I said under my breath.
“Kent, do you know Emily?” In greeting, Kent offered a megawatt smile before proffering a flask from his pocket. I declined politely, but Emily was game enough to try it.
“You were at Lex’s party, right?”
“Yeah, I live with Lex and Ava.”
Kent nodded. “This is Lana and this is Marcia.” He seemed obliged to complete the round of introductions. Turned out Lana was the brunette talking to him, Marcia the stacked blond drooling on Dylan’s shoes. So this was the girl for whom he’d tried to enlist my help.
Both girls acknowledged me and Emily, but neither looked glad to see us. Maybe they were sizing us up as potential competition. Emily would definitely look intimidating.
“She lives.” Dylan called to me. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd though we were only steps apart. I had gotten used to seeing his eyes warm when they met mine, but today they were cool. “I figured the stacks had caved in on you. That’s what happens when you spend too much time in the library alone.”
“Nope. I’m all good.” I turned back to Lana. “So what’s your major?”
“I’m in sociology. Marcia’s in arts. How about you?” she asked.
“Lex is in business,” Kent volunteered. “She’s our resident brainiac. In three years she’ll be a billionaire telling everyone how to dress.”
I blushed. Everyone’s eyes shifted to me. Except Dylan’s. He shot a vaguely irritated look Kent’s way.
“Hey, you girls missed Dylan’s birthday. It was a good night.” Kent went on, oblivious to the look.
Shit. Now I really was a bad friend. I guess he hadn’t bothered to text me given I was barely responding to the other messages …
“What are you guys doing after the game? We should get a drink later,” Emily suggested. She was the most social of the four of us, and wasn’t about to let cheerleaders get in the way of an excuse to party.
Marcia’s face tightened into a decidedly fake, albeit blindingly perfect, smile. “Super. Lana, we should go.” She leveled seriously flirty eyes at Dylan. “Bye.” Marcia reached up behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. I quickly averted my eyes until I heard her voice again. “Call me later.”
“Sure.”
The two girls brushed past us, Lana more courteously than Marcia. If she’d been wearing heels instead of sneakers, I bet Marcia would’ve stabbed me with them as she passed.
“We should probably go too,” I suggested.
“You could stay. Sit here,” Kent protested.
I smiled. “I’m pretty sure these seats are taken.”
“Plus,” Emily piped in, grinning, “we have better seats. And Ava’ll shoot us if we defect.”
Kent was sportsmanlike in defeat. “Fair enough. She looks pretty scrappy, I probably shouldn’t piss her off. It was good to see you.” Kent smiled. My eyes flicked from Dylan to Kent and back. Dylan was watching the field, strangely intent considering there was nothing happening yet.
“You too. Bye, Kent.” I didn’t say anything to Dylan, who looked like he didn’t know we were still there—or didn’t care.
“Bye, Dylan,” Emily called pointedly over her shoulder as we made our way back through the increasingly-full stands. “Nice to meet you.”
I didn’t hear whether he responded or not.
“What’s his deal?” Emily asked as we picked our way down the stands, just out of earshot.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Em. He’s complicated.”
She laughed. “Guys aren’t complicated.”
“That one is.”
We got back to our seats just in time. Even I had to admit the atmosphere was contagious. It didn’t hurt that by halftime it was clear the game was going to be a blowout—already 28–7 for the home team. The mostly hometown crowd was going crazy. My voice was hoarse from talking over the buzz and, yes, even a little cheering.
It would be nearly impossible to get out, but I needed a drink before the second half. Not the kind that came in a flask, though there were plenty of those around. I managed to squeeze past tipsy students and alum and wind my way down from the stands without getting trampled. Fifteen minutes later I was making my way back toward our section of stands with a six-dollar Coke.
A familiar voice drawled from behind me. “Alexis Caine. Do you even go here?” I should’ve known I wouldn’t get off the hook that easily.
I turned and came face to face, or more like face to chest, with the youngest Cameron. Dylan looked slightly inebriated and very tall, given I was wearing flats.
“That was a hell of a disappearing act you pulled.”
“Yeah, well. You were right, the stacks caved in. It took them this long to dig me out.”
He continued to stare me down, so I continued.
“I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I was preoccupied but should’ve at least said something.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Alright, you made your point. I think. Can you quit it with whatever jackass guy thing you’re doing?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Jackass guy thing?” But he seemed to get it and relented, at least momentarily. “Big football groupie? I didn’t peg you as a sports fan.”
“I’m not. You should take a picture.” I smiled. “But it helps that it’s a good day for the hometown crowd.”
He looked like he was about to respond when someone jostled him from behind and he stepped forward. “What the—” If he fell I was pretty sure I’d be squished. Regaining his balance, he turned to find out who’d hit him. I didn’t know if Dylan was the fighting type, but I didn’t want to risk finding out. The Camerons would probably not be too impressed having to bail their drunk underage son out of jail for starting a brawl at homecoming.
